Le Cinquieme Lame : The fifth blade
by In this world live all worlds
Summary: The musketeers befriend a new recruit but he is not who he seems.In his quest for justice he uncovers a secret that once again brings the Musketeers to the fore and endangers his own secret..
1. Prologue & Paris

**Le cinquieme lame (the fifth blade)**

Disclaimer: I own nothing although in my opinion I should do, I'm not nearly as good as Alexandre Dumas and the guys that wrote and produced the films…but damn it I could be!

**I'm not sure if the French title is a hundred percent correct but it has been two years since I last did French so give me a break!**

**Okay this is my first 'Three Musketeers' fanfic so be gentle with me; I am a massive fan of basically all the movies including the not so good ones like 'The Musketeer' but I love 'em all. My favorite has got to be the Disney version with Charlie Sheen, Oliver Plath, Chris O'Donnell and …the other dude from 24 whose name escapes me…oh and the original book by Alexandre Dumas. So this fic is going to be a mix of the two; characters, names and circumstances etc, oh and with my own ideas thrown in!**

**The gist of the story is that the Musketeers have become four after saving the King's life (see Disney movie) Three years later they befriend a new recruit but sh-he is more than he seems and he has his own mission; during this quest for justice he uncovers a plot that will once again bring the Musketeers to the fore and endanger his own secret. **

**I love all the characters; Porthos makes me laugh, d'Artangnan is always hot, Athos is the tortured leader and Aramis…well Aramis is kind of my favorite because he's a mix of all of them so expect plenty of Aramis in this one! Enjoy!**

**Prologue**

Her world was falling apart, it was as though she could feel it crashing down around her and everything was either too slow or too fast to be stopped. She was too slow; she couldn't move and couldn't think, but everything else was so fast it just seemed to pass her by.

His blood washed over her hands, still warm even as he grew colder. Her brother lay limp in her arms as he gasped for breath as he lifted a hand to touch her face and left a bloody handprint upon her cheek and in her hair.

"Don't leave me, Jacques please! Please don't leave me." But he had just smiled up at her tearful face before his body went lax and he looked only as if he were sleeping.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there weeping but it felt like an eternity had passed already as she lifted her head tiredly and finally saw the clue that would lead her forwards, would perhaps take her somewhere unexpected.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter 1 - Paris**

Paris was more than he remembered; smellier and noisy, more alive too; with people everywhere and a hundred different things happening at once. He carefully guided his horse through the busy streets and kept a careful hand upon her purse, after all in such a throng it would be easy for someone to take it. Despite his careful guard he still found himself gazing up in awe at the crowded buildings that surrounded him on all sides. There were so many people too and all of them seemed so different; he watched noble and peasant alike use the same streets although of course this was the better part of Paris and these streets joined the main avenue; the slums further back had few noblemen to be seen.

He joined the main avenue to find stalls and small markets where men and women yelled at passers by to sample their wares. Handsome carriages rolled by and high stepping horses with sneering nobles saddled upon them, cast disparaging glances at everyone else.

He felt suddenly quite naked as though they could see through his disguise, but now he felt lowly in their gazes even though he new he was dressed well enough. He slid off of his chestnut mare and instead walked down the avenue, it gave him a chance to take everything in without the disdainful glares of the noblemen. The gently curving road brought into sight the great palace of King Louis and for a moment he was breathless at the sight of its artistry and magnificence. In that moment he remembered walking in the palace gardens holding his father's hand and watching the ladies of the court gliding by like swans and dressed in their finest. His father hadn't been important, his family name had always been an honorable one and he had made his way through the army as an officer of high rank. They had been there to meet the King, Louis' father, and his father had been given a medal; a medal he kept wrapped in a handkerchief in a wooden box.

The building he looked for was not so beautiful but was just as famous and inspired just as many poets; the head quarters of the King's Musketeers. The pale gold walls rose up like a proud fortress and the crest was carved into the large lintel above the entrance gate, and within the entrance courtyard men in blue and silver thread tunics arrived and departed on horses or hurried from building to building with messages and other such errands.

Few spared a glance for the youth with the chestnut horse so Andre led his horse over to an idle stable hand giving him coin to take care of it and then made his way up the steps to the large doors over which the King's flag and the Musketeer's emblem flew. The heavy wooden doors were flung back to admit the constant stream of men, the entrance hall had a few men within it and they stood in small groups discussing papers that they waved in agitated hands or greeted each other as old friends; two had even taken off their shirts and were sparring, the tapping of their swords echoing in the stone hall.

With shaking hands Andre pulled out the carefully folded letter that held his father's seal, and walked to the closest man that stood alone.

"Pardon me?" He murmured politely, the man's head lifted and his eyes flickered disinterestedly over him.

He looked back down at the sheaf of papers he held. "May I help you?" he replied, his tone suggested that the offer was a mere formality.

"I am looking for Monsieur de Treville." Father had often spoke of the man who recruited and ordered the Musketeers they had, it seemed, been old friends and even Jacques had mentioned him; he prayed he was still here.

"Speak to the man over there." The Musketeer jerked his head in the direction of the shirtless men. Before he could ask which one he spun on his heel and walked off.

He walked slowly over to the two men who had a small crowd of watchers, he noticed with interest the way they watched the elder of the two; he was taller than his opponent and his dark blonde hair fell loose to his shoulders, contrary to the latest fashion which was cut long and tied back. Despite his years only his face showed his age, his body was trim and strong to match his height and was evidence that being a Musketeer saved men from the paunchiness that often came with age.

He frowned at him, he did not seem old enough to be de Treville whom Jacques had named a 'grizzled old tiger' indeed the description had caught on and Jaques had laughed when telling his brother that the Musketeers called him _Le Tigre._

It was clear however that this man commanded the respect of those watching especially with the youths that were obviously relatively new, the man also moved with the skill that suggested years of experience and he executed it with grace and something that bordered on nonchalance.

The man swiftly darted in and disarmed his opponent, and there was a smattering of applause from those quickest to recover from the surprise.

He gave a good natured smile and handed the lad back his sword with a short bow. "Enough now m' boy, it seems I have a visitor waiting in the wings."

He turned to Andre as the men moved off and he stepped forward nervously, the man frowned and beckoned impatiently. "Come along lad I haven't long to spare for you. Do you bring a message?"

Andre swept off his plumed hat and managed to bow when his legs wanted to curtsey, he wobbled slightly and the man rolled his eyes when he thought he wasn't watching.

"Sir," He cleared his throat slightly. "I bring a letter of introduction from my father."

He took the letter and glanced at the seal. "Ah, another son who seeks to be the pride of his father." Andre didn't know what to say after all his father was dead, so he stayed silent.

He broke the seal and perused the letter, a frown puckered his brow making Andre swallow nervously; the seal was real enough for he now had his father's ring which had been given to Jacques. He had rubbed a little dirt over it so it looked older but he had forged the letter that had been Jacques introduction, changing the name to…

"Andre de Reldon?" Alexandrie bowed again slightly.

"At your service sir." He murmured.

He frowned again. "Are you perhaps related to Captain Jacques de Reldon?" he enquired.

He tried to calm his nerves. "My father sir."

"Ah, yes of course." He looked the youth over. "We were expecting to see your brother; does he send you in his stead? He has been with us for about five years but I thought his plans were to stay with us for some time, indefinitely."

Andre inclined his head so that he would not see his eyes; men did not cry and he was a man now… "It is with regret that I inform you of my brother's death, I sent no word for I came directly."

"Dead?" The man sighed and shook his head. "That is grave news indeed for he was a good man, my condolences." He sighed again and then seemed to gather himself. "No doubt you shall do as well as both your father and your brother although of course, that is to be seen. We are not often in need of good men my young friend for the King's Musketeers draw men…inexorably. However, in honor of both your father and brother we would take you on; your brother does after all need replacing." He ended solemnly.

Andre wanted to yell his excitement and at the same time wanted to melt into the floor in relief that the letter was accepted and his disguise had so far not roused any suspicions.

"I shall take you directly to see Monsieur de Treville." He began to usher him up the staircase.

"Then, forgive me sir; you are not Monsieur de Treville?" He had already known that but he couldn't think of a polite way to ask his name.

The man chuckled and shook his head, leading him down one of the many corridors. "No lad, but I have been remiss in introducing myself." He stopped and bowed. "I am Athos."

Andre thought he had been struck over the head, his ears were ringing. "You are Athos?"

He gave him a wry smile and continued walking. "Why the incredulity boy, is it so hard to believe?"

"Forgive me!" Andre rushed after him. "It is not that, it is merely that when one dreams of walking into the head quarters of the Musketeers he dreams that he might meet some of the greatest men of our age, I had no idea that I had stepped into such a dream."

They stopped in front of a large door, Athos turned and smiled slightly. "You have a way with words boy, are you sure that this is your life's work?"

New determination flared within him at those words; he would find his brother's killer even if the only clues he had were a scrap of red tunic and a small cross set with garnets. Being a King's Musketeer would open doors that were previously closed and grant him the means to bring the murderer to justice.

It didn't matter about the danger, or even the danger of discovery; the disguise was perfect…after all she was her father's daughter…

"I am sir."

_**A/N So what do you think, does it have some possibilities? Please Review! xxx**_


	2. Meetings

**For those that do not speak French – Alexandrie translates to Alexandra and Jacques translates to James.**

**Chapter 2 – Meetings**

Monsieur Treville looked at the boy in front of him critically; he was of average height and build with little in the way of muscles, bright chestnut hair had been pulled back and bound in a black thong and light green eyes watched him warily.

Treville glanced behind the boy to Athos who stood in the corner with a small pipe between his lips, the man grinned back at him. "How old are you boy?"

"Nineteen sir." Alexandrie hadn't considered the age of her new identity so she simply said her real one.

De Treville nodded. "Nineteen you say?" He glanced at Athos again who was gazing at the boy. "You don't look a day over sixteen lad and I'll take no one before they're eighteen."

Alexandrie tried to think quickly, she had not considered the fact that her feminine looks made her look younger as a man. Athos suddenly spoke up. "Circumstances dictate sir," He murmured and blew a smoke ring from his lips. "Now that Jacques is dead he must do something with himself as the only son, and as an orphan."

Monsieur de Treville sighed and glared a little at Athos, obviously knowing when he was being coaxed. "I was sorry to hear of this," he said to Alexandrie; Athos having entered the room beforehand and acquainting the other of it. "How did it come about?"

Alexandrie had wondered at telling the truth but would anyone believe there was anything to be done? She had envisioned them laughing at her quest for a 'ghost' of a man as the local constable had, so she lied, it was after all _her_ pursuit.

"A duel sir." This way he would have died honorably and doing what he loved.

"A duel?" de Treville raised an eyebrow. "Your brother had skill with a blade his opponent must have been well matched. May I enquire as to the cause?"

"It was a matter of honor sir." Well it was for her. Seeing his questioning gaze she said the first thing that popped into her head. "He insulted my sister sir." She replied shortly.

"Ah, a matter of some delicacy then." He murmured. "And the debt remains unsettled?"

"He would not fight me sir, he said I was a mere boy."

"Yes," he murmured. "There is that question of age again." He sighed and lowered himself into his chair behind the desk. "Tell me truthfully boy how old are you?"

Alexandrie sighed; it was obvious he would not believe the real answer so she must lie yet again and it pained her to lie more than was necessary. "Seventeen sir but I shall be eighteen within two months, and with all due respect sir I have a sister to care for and my family name to uphold I had hoped to do it here."

"He has spirit." Athos murmured with a smile.

"Yes." Treville replied pointedly. "Something you would admire no doubt." Athos chuckled.

Treville looked down at the letter he had in his hand. "Your father wrote this?"

Alexandrie's gut clenched. "Yes sir, before his death; it was always my wish to join my brother here,"

"Good men, both of them." Treville murmured and then waved a hand dismissively. "Athos find him some quarters until he can pay for his own, welcome to the Musketeers boy. Oh and Athos!" he called as they opened the door. "Put some bloody clothes on will you."

…

Athos clapped Alexandrie on the back and grinned. "Naught but a boy and already a Musketeer, you'll have to earn it." He warned. "But if you're anything like your brother you'll do it and probably the hard way too." He muttered the last and it made Alexandrie frown.

He led her outside into the courtyard again but this time they turned right and walked through another archway, smaller than the main entrance, which led to more stables and a courtyard and through again into a large yard in which men trained with swords and hand combat. Behind that were yet more buildings and courtyards making the Musketeers head quarters an entire complex, and to the right of the main training yard through yet another arch were large stoned buildings that were used as quarters for veterans and new recruits alike. It was into this they walked.

"The upper floors are for the veterans." Athos explained. "They're bigger and the older men like their space, they're superior after all, but most have their own lodgings out in the city. The lower levels are for you young ones so you can all bunk together."

Alexandrie's heart stopped momentarily. Why hadn't she thought of that? She was going to have to share a room and her secret would be instantly discovered; she would be sent home in disgrace! She hadn't known there would be quarters, she had thought to fend for herself until more money came along; she would use her dowry which if used frugally would buy her several months in relatively nice lodgings or a year or more somewhere…adequate. Oh dear.

"You are relatively lucky though my lad," Athos was saying. "You shall be staying with a good companion of mine who happens to be holding a nice apartment further up."

He led Alexandrie along the dark paneled corridors and up the staircase until the wood became slightly more decorated and paler in colour and the sconces were more ornate.

"It is not the top floor," Athos continued coming to a halt at a door at the end of the corridor. "But the middle should certainly do." He grinned suddenly. "You wanted a dream boy, well I give you one."

He gave a hard knock on the door; from within there was the sound of stumbling and cursing before the door was suddenly flung open.

"Athos! What brings you here?"

"Andre de Reldon may I introduce d'Artagnan."

_**A/N Hey guys please Review this for me and tell me what you think so far! xxx**_


	3. D'Artagnan

**Okay guys here's the next chapter, I hope you're all enjoying it so far; please tell me if you are and if you aren't tell me why I don't mind constructive criticism! **

**Chapter 3 – D'Artagnan**

Alexandrie stared up into the cheerful face and felt sure she was going to be sick. Here was a man that was praised above all others despite his youth, and he was indeed far younger than she had expected. Everyone knew of Athos, Porthos and Aramis but d'Artagnan was a legend of different proportions despite the fact he had probably done less in his lifetime than his friends.

He carried his years well and looked to be somewhere between twenty and twenty five, his face was handsome with square jaw and straight nose surrounded by a head of thick light brown waves that barely brushed his shoulders. Blue eyes twinkled at her and his face was transformed into that of a boy with a large grin; it promised entertainment that would border on trouble.

"Sir." She choked out at last and gave a small bow.

"Excellent!" d'Artagnan grinned at his friend. "Well mannered in the face of overwhelming odds." He traipsed back into his room ignoring the despairing shake of Athos' head, the older man ushered her in.

D'Artagnan threw himself into a wooden chair and stretched out his legs across the floor boards. "I suppose I am to shelter my new comrade at arms?" he asked Athos with a roguish grin. "I would offer you wine," he continued. "But I have drunk it all in despair!" he gave a sigh and his face was instantly transformed into a serious young man with a frown. That glimpse explained to Alexandrie why so many thought him intimidating and painted him older than he really was.

"Despair?" Athos sat back and lit his pipe lifting his legs to prop them on the small dining table, Alexandrie reflected that it was an irritating habit most men seemed to have. "Let me guess, a woman."

"Aye." D'Artagnan sighed again.

Athos shook his head and motioned for Alexandrie to sit next to him. "D'Artagnan has many women to bandy favors with; they are the only thing that can drive him to drink in despair."

Alexandrie found herself grinning. "Most men say such things but they drink in sorrow, in happiness in anger-" The list was lost in Athos' loud laugh and even d'Artagnan chuckled ruefully.

"Lust, my friend; many men drink in lust. I shall teach you many things, Athos speaks of favors and I am in receipt of some particularly…expensive ones. Your brother was much the same."

"You knew my brother?" Alexandrie asked incredulously; her brother had mentioned meeting the four famous musketeers but had never said they had been intimate companions.

"Of course!" D'Artagnan laughed. "I first met him when I was climbing out of the Duchess of Solange's bedroom window I got into a spot of bother you see; I had little in the way of clothes about me, the Duke having returned home earlier than expected, and your brother offered me assistance with a rather ingenious use of a bucket…he found it all rather amusing needless to say."

Alexandrie couldn't help but blush at the thought of her elder brother assisting in such intrigues which could only mean that he himself had been involved in them.

Athos chuckled at his reddening companion. "Andre is I fear, a little too young for such talk d'Artagnan."

"Indeed his experience may be sadly lacking, I can help him remedy that!" D'Artagnan grinned again.

"But what of Constance?" Athos asked suddenly. "I had thought to see you tied to a marriage bed…"

"And she is my despair!" D'Artagnan cried woefully. "I am out of her favour!"

Alexandrie could see why and said so. "Forgive me sir but that is hardly surprising if hers is not the only favor that you seek."

Athos nudged the surprised d'Artagnan with a booted foot. "Perhaps the lad could teach _you _a thing or two my friend!"

"Indeed." D'Artagnan murmured speculatively. "It seems our young friend can see into the minds of women."

Alexandrie simply shrugged, her observation seemed obvious enough to her; men could be so wool headed sometimes.

"So, you are to lodge with me?" d'Artagnan said at last. "Well you are in luck my friend for there is plenty room indeed you may have your own chambers. My own are through there," he pointed to the right of the door where another stood. "Your own are to be found through that doorway past the latrine, which is on the left, and up the steps." He pointed to the other end of the room. "There is a good view of some of the Palace gardens."

"That is generous of you sir." She murmured, relief running through her at the thought of having her own room somewhere infinitely better than she could afford to buy.

D'Artagnan merely smiled. "I never really was much interested in views but I know some prefer them, your brother bought rooms to be near the gardens perhaps you have the same interest in nature? If so it is good fortune I chose else where to lay my head!"

Alexandrie could think of nothing better though it would not do to say so; she had loved the open fields and woods of her home and had taken over care of her mother's garden upon her death. It had pained her to leave such a beautiful and happy place but she would not have been able to afford its upkeep without marrying…nor would she have been able to track down Jacques killer.

"Well it seems you are to be comfortably settled." Athos said and stood to leave. "I am late enough already so I will leave you now."

D'Artagnan called after him. "Will you meet us again tonight Athos?"

Athos nodded and then turned back with an afterthought. "Bring the boy so he may taste Parisian life."

**A/N Okay so not much in the way of action at the mo but we're being introduced to everyone first but hopefully it will get more interesting! Please Review! xxx**


	4. Two More

**In this we meet the last two Musketeers and Alexandrie becomes the topic of conversation.**

**Chapter 4 ****–****Two more**

D'Artagnan studied the young man in front of him, there was a little of his elder brother in him the colour of his eyes for example. Despite the fact the boy was out of his depth and perhaps a little overwhelmed he had the feeling those pale sea green eyes were taking in everything and storing it away, Jacques had been much the same.

There was definitely intelligence in those bright depths and though the boy spoke little what he did say contained the wisdom and knowledge of someone older, and was spoken in such a way that suggested every word had been well thought out. His outward demeanor was calm, unfazed despite the constant noise and goings on of the tavern; the boy had probably noted every exit and decided which men would be more likely to cause trouble.

The very fact that Athos had taken him under his wing suggested that the young man had potential; of course Athos was also guided by respect for his father and brother but Athos never confused respect for a family with respect for an individual; that was earned. D'Artagnan had earned respect by challenging three Musketeers on his first day in Paris and then stayed for the resulting fight with the Cardinal's men; he had nearly lost his head for it!

He had had it easier however; he had gained the respect of his friends and the Musketeers all at once, having had adventures that proved his worth to his friends and those adventures had led him to save the King's life thus gaining the respect of his fellow swordsmen. There were still men that challenged him though, eager to test his skill and see if he was worthy of his reputation. Andre would have to earn respect separately and d'Artagnan knew only too well the burden of expectation having a respected and well known father, Andre had had a brother too; the expectation was doubled…

"How now my friends!" A voice boomed loudly across the room and there was an answering cheer from the other patrons. Alexandrie surmised that the man was well known in this tavern and was obviously liked, although thirty drunken men hardly seemed an adequate testimony of character.

He was tall and yet was a man of some weight despite the fact he disguised his middle with a large dark blue scarf, one of several about his person in fact. Another blue one was tied about his forehead and dangled down the side of his head, over the top of this was tied a string of small flat gold discs that caught the light as he moved. Thick dark waves that were even shorter than d'Artgnan's were scooped back by the scarf and looked perpetually wind blown. He wore a dark blue and slightly worn satin dress coat over his white linen shirt and was trimmed with small gold buttons, two were missing. An assortment of beads and necklaces hung about his neck and tucked into the sash about his waist was a range of odd looking gadgets that she surmised must be weapons, and there was a knife hilt sticking out of the top of one of his dusty black boots.

He looked to more of a pirate than a Musketeer; he was a flamboyant character indeed and instantly seized the nearest serving girl who gave a squeal of mock fear and then giggled.

"Now, now Porthos," Athos' measured voice could be heard as he walked to where she and d'Artagnan sat. "Try to control yourself."

Porthos opened his mouth to answer but seemed to suddenly notice d'Artagnan. "Ah! My young friend, it seems an age since I last saw you!"

"You saw me last Tuesday." D'Artagnan pointed out.

"And what a droll day it was." Porthos replied, pouring himself some wine. He caught sight of Alexandrie. "And who is this young fellow?"

"The boy I was telling you of." Athos said from around his pipe stem.

"Ah yes, Andre." He inclined his head to her and grinned merrily. Alexandrie was given the distinct impression that he was the lovable rogue of the group and couldn't help but take an instant liking to him even if he was a little intimidating.

"So where have you been all week?" d'Artagnan leaned forwards onto the table.

"I went to visit the Tsarina of Tokyo." Porthos replied smugly. "She was pleased to see me again."

"The Tsarina of Tokyo?" D'Artagnan repeated in disbelief.

Porthos leaned forward and pointed a finger in warning. "Now don't take that tone with me d'Artagnan I won't have you insulting her again…"

"There's a Tsarina of Tokyo?" Alexandrie asked in confusion.

"My dear Andre," Porthos said condescendingly. "Everyone knows that there is a Tsarina of Tokyo."

"I don't." D'Artagnan sat back and crossed his arms as though daring Porthos to argue back.

He did.

"Of course you do, she gave me my sword."

Athos frowned slightly and looked mischievously thoughtful. "I thought the Empress of Germany gave you that?"

"Yeah," D'Artagnan frowned. "Last time you said it was an axe.""And don't you forget it boy, without it you would have lost that pretty head of yours."

Alexandrie exchanged a confused look with d'Artagnan; Porthos had somehow lost the argument but come out on top and had the last words.

"That would indeed have been lamentable." A low voice carried to the men sat around the table; it had the texture of velvet and yet maintained a wry drawl. Alexandrie turned to see a tall man leaning against one of the tavern's pillars; he was well dressed in a chestnut brown coat with a matching jerkin that hung open to reveal a clean white linen shirt. Tall black boots rose to meet fawn breeches and an ornately carved silver cross hung down the loosened ties of the shirt that exposed a small amount of clean flesh.

He was handsome, with dark brown eyes that gazed directly at her and made her feel slightly uncomfortable, a small smile played across his lips as though he knew something that no on else did and it was surrounded by a small dark beard that was trimmed neatly about his chin and upper lip.

"Aramis!" Porthos' excitement seemed to expand at the sight of the man who was evidently his closest companion. He heaved himself up and all but threw himself at the other who simply laughed and embraced him before settling next to him, opposite Alexandrie.

"Where have you been you sly dog?" Porthos asked as he poured the man some wine.

"Here and there." Was the quiet reply that made Porthos shake his head.

D'Artagnan turned to Alexandrie and murmured in her ear. "Aramis has been elusive of late, he has been moving around quite a bit; we none of us know where he lives now."

Alexandrie digested this before turning back to her study of the man sat opposite her. So this was the fourth Musketeer, another man famed for his skill with a blade and for his mercy.

Rumor had it that he had once been a student of the Cardinal's but had been disgusted by the Cardinal's greed and bid for the throne of France. They claimed he was deeply patriotic and had surrendered his God for his King by joining the Musketeers and protecting the Kings of France on numerous occasions, including the incident of three years ago in which it was said he personally saved the young King and Queen and arrested the Cardinal. For such a man to contemplate a life in the service of God Alexandrie figured that he must be deeply religious, however his reputation with the women of France from all classes was frequently the topic of conversation; it seemed that his second choice of vocation suited him far better…

"I see we have adopted another scoundrel." Aramis said suddenly and turned his attention to Alexandrie, she found herself blushing under his gaze.

"Indeed no!" Protested d'Artagnan, coming to her defense. "I fear you have quite mistaken him."

"Yes quite," Interjected Porthos. "He is far too young to be a scoundrel, see he has no beard. You cannot be a scoundrel without a beard!" He burst out laughing.

D'Artagnan shook his head with a chuckle. "Porthos I have no beard and yet you remark quite frequently that I am a scoundrel!"

"Ah yes, a clean shaven scoundrel thou art!" Porthos grinned.

"In all seriousness however," D'Artagnan continued. "Andre is not a scoundrel; he is too well mannered and honest for such a thing. Indeed I fear he is to be a good influence on me." He finished in mock gloominess which made Athos smile.

"Heaven save us." Porthos shook his head in despair.

"It is well enough," Aramis pointed out. "You are too far gone to be reformed!"

Porthos gave him a playful punch on the arm before turning back to Alexandrie. "Your father never mentioned that he had a second son, I believe he said something of a daughter however."

The others were watching her now and she could feel them waiting expectantly for an answer to the question that had no doubt been on all their minds, for even her brother would not have mentioned Andre. She chose her words carefully.

"A man is proud to be named a father sir and even more so when his first born is a son; he shall continue the family name and honor. A man's first daughter is a blessing in sweetness and brings her own reputation and chance of alliance to the house. As a twin and middle child sir what am I to my father that my brother and sister were not? I doubt he knew what to do with me sir, a second son is merely assurance!"

Athos gave a small snort of laughter at the last and the others smiled. Aramis looked at her with a renewed interest.

Porthos toasted her. "Spoken like a true middle child, assurance indeed! Well said lad, Aramis my friend I believe we have found one of your nature," He leaned across the table to Alexandrie. "Aramis has a penchant for words if they were wine he would be constantly drunk! He and I have a disagreement on how to tempt women, he once tried to take d'Artagnan under his poet's wing but I'm afraid d'Artagnan has holes in his memory; useless for poetry!" He turned back to Aramis and gave him a cheerful slap on the back. "Perhaps you might like this one as your student!"

"Indeed," Aramis murmured speculatively. "He would prove most apt."

**A/N So how do you guys think it's going so far? It's a little slow at the moment but we're still doing the introductions and setting up the story, it'll get better I promise…well I hope at least! As always read and review my lovelies x**


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